The invention of time serves the system

In the modern world, the human lives are controled by the clock, which represents the time, (it has no incidence in the present), i think it's an error implied by the creation of profit and productivity, this same system keeping human into insidious slavery, the prominent and correct rules to me should be those of nature, hence we should based our lives on our needs, and not on efficiency as it is now; i could add that this peculiar greedy system is spreading through evolution of human communities, (probably because those with the most knowledge and power choose this system for their own interest, even if by this choice many are left with nothing), i imagine in some tribes around the world the time doesn't exist, they simply live in a sort of harmony with the nature listening to their primal needs; i'd like the system to change and i'd like spreading knowledge and awareness. Based the system on better values, more humanistic, and keeping the evolution through learning, discovery, knowledge.

Thinking positive

I'm proud of my sensitivity, i believe i have fineness, i know i'm not in the norm of beauty but i'm still in good shape, i'm curious and i have imagination, i'm a diletant but i try to close what i begin, i love to learn and make links, when i say something i mean it, i believe i'm trustworthy, i'm not really sociable but i think i'm gentle, i may be "too intellectual" for common people but that's how i am, my interests are different, i like the core of things, the meanings, the truths, my appearance prevents me from being materialistic, i hate clichés, well, i'm not easy but i'm not useless, i know i have qualities even if people don't see it in their own interests, life is hard but i want to believe i can belong somewhere, to someone.

Lack

Having self confidence is being sure that no one will ever deceive us, it's imagining we can get out of every situations imaginable, it's feeling above any defaults, i'm not presomptious enough to be self confident.

Growing Inequity

He's good looking, time gets no marks on him; he's successful in a job he likes, moreover a well paid job; he's fluent and smart, perfectly assorted words are distributed generously, sprinkled with the charm of his smiles; i can swear he's well integrated in this society; he has Malgasy origin; he's not very tall and strong, rather thin and dynamic; he has a sane, educated life; he swims, performs as a dj in specific bars, reads, and goes out freely as he knows all the routes of his city; he adapts and acts surely for his best; doors are open for him, and he enjoys his creative job; his parents, provided him with a wealthy childhood, and taught him self confidence in most of situations; the size is nothing, the smile on his look snaps only good testimonies on his case; he seems happy to live and i can't imagine someone couldn't like him; he lives adventures all around the globe, offering secret stays in paradise destinations to his lovely girlfriend, watching him life looks easy... easy, sweet and rolling, like lifting our head along the way to pick a bit at every wonders which can change our spirit in a minute, the scent of shiny flowers, the first drop on our hand, a song we love out of an unknown window, the gaze of a girl we will crave to know, ... and with all this, he is upright... does such a man really exist, because the man himself brought by his mindset this blissful life upon him, can someone be so good, how many are they, why do i feel like i'm the only shit left behind,... this is my childhood pal, i'm impressed, and like with all the people that have an impression on me (even with only the power and beauty of one eye), i feel like shit next to them... my cross is so much people have advantages on me, i get impressed too easily, that's how those i can love can bring me down.

Road to Madness - stage one : Numbness

Up at 8 am

Staring at a screen

Nap at 11 am to 12 : 30 pm

Staring at a screen (even while eating)

Nap at 16 pm to 17 pm

Staring at a screen

Nap at 22 pm to 24 pm

Staring at a screen (a huge part of the night)

Actual beding time at 5 am

Up at 8 am

Staring at a screen

...

....

.....

Soul mate Rêverie

I'm at this bulky wooden table, typing on my computer in a poorly lit room, on my right i could watch through a wide window, a scar running all along the wall, i'm on the first floor and noticing from the outside i must be in a rural town, and more precisely in the appartment above a small train station because i can see right before my dwelling a line of rails crossing the surrounding greenery, the flattened flashy green of abundant trees i can't recall the name; i'm here like it's my home, peaceful, aware of the habits of living in such an environement, once watching the passing trains shaking my scarce stuffs and furnitures, once zoning in the differents rooms which i'm persuaded to be my brothers', flooded with colored toys and posters compared to the austerity of mine, in this atmosphere i am chating... with you, i see my smiles at your replies, i have the awareness of being in a lost place, and you being far, almost in another period of time; between two glances at the faded blue sky of this comforting afternoon, i'm suddenly happily shocked as i see you in your space revealed on the screen, i see you staring at your own screen, then in search for fresh water or lingering before the seemingly same window i have in my room, watching outside, the city, and i see through your eyes, the city, like erratic blocks, brown and grey, stacked boxes with notches on each sides, i remember clearly two orange buildings melting amongst the mass, new ones, not yet caught under the scabs of dirt; i imagine our personal living places which represent our mindset were exactly the same, despite the differences of living style, i was watching you move freely on that screen and the spot you wander in instantly becomes my dream land.

Desir of goodness

Why can't i have all the solutions, a bag full of goodness, when i think about this one person, the troubles to find reconforts in this depraved world, all indifferent and always on the run, when i hear her stories as i murmur the fitted words, i wish so much i could be the answer, the answer of all her griefs, the missing piece, how could we call that feeling, all i want is being happiness, i is not i, in those moments my way is only to make her happy, and without any further thinking i'm sure for a second that if she's happy i'll be happy too, but i always fall back to earth, as i'm not perfect, far from it, it seems exclusiveness can't materialize only because no one and nothing is perfect, we all need different things, rebirth everyday, we're not so easily satisfied, even if at those very moments my mind makes me feel absolute is possible, i wish i was the air with the extended wind, invisible and everywhere, no boundaries to stop me, no roads to follow and no one could hurt me, i could be there, i could be all around her, i could bring the marvelous scents, i could slip softly on her skin, i could watch all the beauty, i'll be sane and harmless, maybe those dreams of absolute are a disruption of what is to be human, i'm just human, a too much sensitive human.

Forget to belong

Being part of a group gives sense to life, it brings friends, it helps to go out of oneself, people need something to put all their energy in, let's mention the japanimation fans, those who are fond of a fashion, a look, the punks, the lolitas, belonging to a community to have the impression they are not alone, reducing his vision to one subject consciously to focus, it's accepting we miss all the rest but we will be master in this very subject we chose, life must be easier when we decide what we want to be no matter what we miss beside, it's like wearing blinkers, the mind clearly can't separate on too many interests and the life is too short to practice them all, we have to make choices, and maybe we will miss something we would have been great at but as we chose to wear blinkers we don't care and that's for the best, being the loner isn't a natural thing to choose, it's in fact anti-natural, every human needs to find his sharing partners, chosing a community simplify things, i envy those who can restrict the attention of their mind, sometimes i'd like to live in a mutlicolored world made of the same codes, where everyone is friend and all is entertainement, the simple pleasure of belonging somewhere with no reflections on the why i'm here, just the certainty i'm appreciated, i'm like all the others in this tiny world and we're simply here to enjoy ourselves; sometimes i want a disguise, i want to hide the blackness of my soul, being someone else following the easy rules of a trend, being accepted and embraced as a worthy member of one special community.

Call

I don't need no humans in my life, they always expect something from me, they try to change me knowingly, they change me, i don't need no friends, they are unable to act for themselves, to think for themselves, they impose and tackle, let me do what i want, i should use people, like they all do, i don't need no girlfriend, recalling me that i'm a freak, sawing my arm, my palm delicately laid on her cheek, while whispering me a lullaby, all naive i am; people ask me to be their kickstand, it's how it works actually, everybody search for a support, for the ones who materially help to take decisions, i don't want to choose for others, i've enough of my own turmoils, i don't want to be a kickstand, i'm in search of the absolute desinterestedness, i give myself with no expectations, just because i'm sure, i chose it, i share freely, but humans are fearful and all their life they search for reassurance, whatever the means, egoistically, all for themselves, they search, find, use and leave, i want to say get off my back fuckers, shear your own way, i sense you only want to strip me from my core, now i have nothing to give, people don't come to me because i have no possesions they could hog from me, my kindness becomes a myth, i accept then i withdraw, leaving you in despair, i want near me only one type of persons, those who know who they are, ready to share everything, those no one can despoil, fragile but sure of their needs, ask me anything, for them, for those who expect nothing from me, those who accept without my consent that i am vital in their life, blindly i'll give everything. Give me unconditional-ism.

Tricksters

"Many native traditions held clowns and tricksters as essential to any contact with the sacred. People could not pray until they had laughed, because laughter opens and frees from rigid preconception. Humans had to have tricksters within the most sacred ceremonies for fear that they forget the sacred comes through upset, reversal, surprise. The trickster in most native traditions is essential to creation, to birth".

I knew there was a witty background in "jojo the rabbit", that's why i liked this series, i'm a lot like this trickster, i see similarities, a link between the petty humans and the higher spheres, the flame, the child in everyone, the one who exists to point out the ugly, the profane, the unspeakable of a community, without such a character there is no evolution for humanity, he is here to open every eyes.

When i look sad

There's no more joy in my life for a long time now, i even can't remember a true lasting moment of happiness, though outbursts of magnificent hope are sent to me from over the seas, unfortunately leaving me idle because there's nothing i can do to catch and keep that hope pressed on my chest, and that's why there is only darkness on this blog, i'm unable to enjoy the real simplicity, i need to attach some depth, some background, some analysis on the simpliest events and creations in this world, and this functioning i can't share because that's not the way things work for people socially well integrated, all being bored when they are alone, gasping for easy entertainments, whereas me i'm more creative, i search and learn on every subjects ringing a bell in me, it seems people don't care for general knowledge, they are mainly narrow minded and conditionned to learn by heart, a method i despise, learning must be done through a reasoning and a digging amongst the bazaar of informations; but my learnings, even if it is pleasant, don't bring me to the crest of intense joy, only because it lacks someone to share with me and transcend all emotions; i decided to be disagreeable, i won't say "yes" instantly, i'll be outrageous and speak the worst of my mind, the wretched, the diffamatory but all my truth, maybe i'm drawn to sadness and anger, and for that i'm better alone, i can't play the tolerance for now and taste the nauseous impression that i'm in a mitigated place and my brain undergoes the assaults by a blender of stupidities; those who'll stay, will be those i can share with and spend an honest good time.

What a mistake

I said my feelings ache, because i'm a monster;
Sweet petal easily printed, folded, with livid care;
The attention was shrinking and now i regret,
throw your passions like a heavy stone,
no one can catch with no preparation;
The dry lips, when the peek stick into the wearing black,
the stomach convulses and you remember your mistake;
Pain, lose the key of your senses,
because you're disgracing others before corroding you in shame.

(it goes with the idea of giving hope, but in fact being empty and helpless, feeling regrets by imposing even the nice emotions)

Nearly lost

My introverted attitude and in a way my carefree appearance can fool people about my age, and sometimes despite the anarchic beard i grow, by laziness, or because my thin skin looks like a mine field to me when i'm shaved, despite this slackened image, and maybe because of it, generaly people saw me younger than i really am, kids and teenagers seems to have a good feeling with me, like if i could be a big brother, though i'm still shy, soon i'm going to suffer hugely if i don't make up my mind, try to match my age, take responsibilities, begin to enjoy adult's things, like news and tuxedo........, this is bullshit, i know i won't change inside, those "hobbies" i love, the impetuous guitar playing, the need to move my body through sports or long directionless walks, the carelessness in every pretentious matters, the way i play with toys when i'm with a trusted one in cultural stores, my lack of poise in the most regarded places, this won't change because that's what i like in life, that's what i am, but the time undermines my body and slowly but surely i'm too aware of the effects, the wrinkles like antler in my hand, i'm still in good shape but for how many years now can i compete against the young legs which haven't even lived for two decades yet, i think about shaving my head, this will be my surrender, old age will definitely coat my face, i can't play the rebelious type anymore, i need to be wiser, pondered... i'm already into analysis and keeping distance for so many years while the others enjoyed the boundless freedom of youth, i can't do otherwise than to note that... i never lived!... i never lived elsewhere than in my head, and now possibilities are lost forever, i have to sweep some remaining illusions from my craving youth or i'll shatter in a sudden transformation, when the decrepitude will lay her veil in my eyes and those who see me.

Illusion expectation

I'd like to live above all cities, in a square of glass, something cozy and bright, a nest i'm the only one to know about, a giant globe, a bubble on the highest floor of a tower, i could watch in all the directions like a bird admiring the weather, the show of a myriad of colored light at night fall, making the daily life a scene i'll be less bored, i'll look at them but i don't want them to know my shelter, only the most trusted ones could come visit me anytime they want, for them i will always be visible, we will play and share all our interests serenly then madly, floating at mid distance in the air, i want to know all and taste with my eyes, i want to absorb the capricious day and to melt with the gracious night, high, in my welcoming home, discreet, simple, vivid and hearty.

Cruelty in despair

I need somebody to shove me, today for the first time i can remember i have upset my mom, like the sweetheart she is, she was trying to help me going out of the paperwork mess, i know she's so shy and subtle, she was hiding her natural temper, she was hiding the pain, the difficulty to speak to this ungrateful humanity, i am turning into a monster, why do i slap the hands stretching to pull me out of oily water thick as tar, on some situations, hearing some words, feeling some conceptions, my heart stops, i change myself to an indolent creature, less than that, i am not a living thing anymore, i'm a divine crybaby blasting the willingness of those who only love me enough to sacrifice themselves, i hate myself, i want to disapear, i want to be forgotten, this way i could do no wrong anymore, i wish i would never exist, this way i'll never be a bother to anyone, all i can do now is closing my mind, burying myself under the blanket trying to rebirth, i'm so stubborn i deserve my pain, it's always too late when i feel sorry and haggard, i deserve it, i can picture my mom crying of all the worries i am as a twisted child, please someone shove me out of awareness, i'm so sorry now to be what i am.

Accepting being true

I know something for sure, i have no charisma, i'm clumsy in many ways, i won't state that to pity me, i accept it's a part of my personality; When i walk in the wind my entangled sparse hair worry me constantly; In group games i'm impulsive, lingering slowly then suddenly making a vehement rush; My gazes aren't straight, i can't watch someone in his eyes, i use tricks to gather informations on people's looks and tempers, i roll my head like a travelling camera, my pupils flutter, wide and panicked, make me look shy, unsure, definitely unattractive; I surely don't have the gait of a cat on a low wall with my crooked spine, the throat bent forward like i'm a hunchback, a flaw probably due to all the hours spent jamming in my rock n roll universe, a robust guitar collapsing my left shoulder; My gestures are awkward and i mainly don't know what to do with my hands while i'm in public, hiding them deep in my pockets until i get red semi circle around my wrists like if i was cuffed, or desperatly holding on the strap of my bag, sweaty and oozing fear; Yeah! I recognize i'm not stereotyped with that nonchalant body of mine.

Blending with the walls

Those walls are sulky, it makes me sick, the clinical colors, the yellowish of the dining room fading under the moisture and the dirt, the gloomy doors of a disturbing dark brown, the tainted moquette at which one glance makes me want to spew, the dust in all the corner which i'm allergic to, but i don't care to lose my health for this shitty appartment, the wallpaper rolls down to the floor and the crumbly lamps shed a light so poor it makes me think i'm at a mortuary watch, this cave is like the inside of my being, cold, messy, ragged, maybe some hope is crouched somewhere or it's all gone with the wind blowing through the holes of this pitiful decayed room, if i contort myself enough maybe i could leak toward a definitive escape but ironically i'm too small and my perception is too vast, i'm part of this place, i'm a stain, it's here i belong, in this shabby dungeon representing my mind.

I need an escape, i want to believe i'm better than this, i need you.

(please don't think i'm egoistical, you make me feel better, i want to give, but i need to trust myself... i can't be happy alone.)

the world turns and leaves me here

Another lost day deteriorating my eyes, but what change could i get to enlighten my life, my only ability is to fold my legs under my weary flesh until the pain forces me to take few steps to watch through the window; All covered most of the time, i forget the seasons, my eyes glued to this nefarious screen, maybe i persuade myself that i want nothing because my excitment is an unreachable apple.
Which step do i have to take to release my heaviness and get the legitimate joy everyone is longing for, certainly not those who lead me to stay petrified in front of the turning world.

Recuperation (a mindset Profits-oriented)

This woman uses her dead child to manipulate people's opinions on a peculiar subject, to me the death of the boy is only her fault, she failed to educate him, she failed to know what was good for him, she never questioned, she never searched for knowledge, as an adult she should have known the greediness of the big corporations, now because of a context her child is a rotten corpse and she took right in her face her lack of caring, there was more than one cause, and she needs a culprit, but she never learnt, she is still a fat american scold, and now the most shameful of all she uses her baby's death to achieve her goals, which is mainly : get money, she feeds herself with pity, because it's so "normal" to be moved and attentive in front of a person who lost a child; Well, i can't stand the hypocrites dissing the system but acting the same, please "miss Common Morals" sees me as a heartless bastard, i say it for you ignorants, nobody can corrupt me, nobody can use me, even with a dead child.

Somebody

Somebody will offer his arms, somebody less complicated, the comfort without the doubts, universally waited, out of range is the foresee illumination, the vision of the abandonment once coils in this tender cocoon, nothing change except the world turning at the speed pace of security, don't blame this human craving, wish them the best luck, because you're unable to give what is waited and the arrow of your forgiveness throws by those you feel for will pierce the gold of all you keep closed as you wanted, don't blame the world, blame yourself or simply let go of all the wild unrealistic expectations, all covered, you can't give, fine, someone will do it for you, release your mind, at least allow those you love to be free and happy, these arms are useless.
My mind talks to me like that, if you want to know the commonly unknown for you just forget who you are, what you are now can't satisfy, this body is too sharp and this brain too high, if you want to be somebody drop the leash.
I say shut up incoherent thing, i'll never set loose the one and the beliefs, i'll be damned, i'll walk on this path of thorns forever.

heart-shaped Box

I have no family, we're all a bunch of mutes, sewing locks around our hearts, playing the nihilists, nothing is said, the infamous wounds are pasted with the mire of false indifference and it taints us, why the heredity has engraved the taste for suffering in our cursed lineage, we're not living with others, we are crouched and afraid in a corner of our own made jail, i want to break free even if i have to let everybody down, even if i have to tear apart my own cuffed hands, i dream about infinite space, a canvas for me to scatter all the colors i really want to spill, what do i have to lose on the road, i think of my weighty heart like a pretty chiseled chest full of stinky ominous desires, should i have to dismember me to start anew, i want to be able to cry in my mother's arms, feel the intensity of one embrace without doubts, not belong, i want to be light, i want to float freely, i want to be huged and reassured.

I want to escape this heart-shaped box.

Trance

Never dance, people look stupid when they dance, they never do it for fun, only by principle or celebration, for them dancing is a show, they display a good mood to draw the nymphs and Appollons, there is no sense to me to rejoice massively, do i dismiss dance because i can't... yeah i can't! I can't pretend and mix in the only purpose to hope for a lascivious hip move, the eyes soaked in intoxicating substances or mere alcohol, dancing is so vain i'd rather hit my brow on the floor, the way they do it with their laughing gulfs right to the ceiling, rubbing each others like a cat on his master's leg, people dance to forget, to get some relief in their miserable lifes, to find momentary peace in the worst devotions, they wriggle like a heap of snakes while on my side i only aspire to madness, focusing all my nerves on one beam reaching high, twirling around like a squid underwater, a whirlgig at the edge of a table, when i dance no Matter exists, it's a wide nebula and i'm part of it all, i'm hatefull of their aspirations, they turn an ability so pure to an orgiastic race, never dance like they dance but i'll keep to grow my entity insane and in my dance i'll find sleep.

(i must stop to write in this state, if only i could describe the beauty of the details around)

Self Salvation

I don't want to be human anymore, i'm not like them, i can't feel used any longer, i can't thrive in the ditches they trace, i have enough of walking in the mud, growing my black wings to warn them, always explaining what's in their own heads, thinking for two, for three, and suffer their numb glances, all the sick reasoning leading them on their joyful tracks, i'm the freak they point their finger at while i'm roaming in the beautiful wild and they are on a tour guided by their egoistical appetite, showing their polished teeth like a business card, all of you fearing the burst of an incandescent mind, i don't need not one of you, i'm changing state, here is my elevation, i give myself the right to be out, free of your vicious tortures, i don't confront you anymore, i let you blindly tumble over the cliff, enjoying your fall, breaking one by one your fingers fatten up with playful medicine, tonight i vent all the hate i breathed, i give it back, i'm not a part of your circus anymore, after this last onslaught i'm different, i won't seek your regards, you end your existences and not the contrary, i chose to kill you in my attitudes than to kill me, your stingy hands already hollowed me of my humanity because you made humanity, all of you, the masses, the majority, you chose a sight for these insatiable grasshopers to follow, well i can't be part of your insensitive scheme, i'll choose for myself, i deny you, i let you bang your thick skulls, stabbing each others cheerfully, i won't regret you, i'll find my needs in the spiritual of my own paradigm, i will create my happiness.

(you write about being whole with someone and i describe my withdrawal of humanity and the search for the inner bliss, i thought it was funny to mention this opposition, those are themes of The Fountain)

Plain logic

What better proof there's something wrong with me that nobody ever wanted to be close to me. That's logical to me.

I can't reason this feeling

Do you know this emotion, after you learned the thinking of one individual, you begin to be frustrated by your daily social relations, you feel something is missing, you want more and the people in front of you don't see it, they clearly walk a different way toward a different horizon. And you think of that one person, that one whose you feel secure and you can tell everything, even your darkest wounds, the one you don't want to hide none of your supposed flaws because underlying you hope she'll accept you all, with all you are, the good, the bad, the manners, the moves, the thoughts, the conditioning, the functioning, the habits, the losses, and so on, everything, you want to be transparent because faking, hiding one's truth under the norms of this world is so much tiring and it drains you, and slowly you imagine to be able to close your eyes and letting you slip in trust, you begin to believe that this one you can trust entirely and all you have to do is being yourself, the thoughts unveilled are accepted and you see a common path to go along, a reasoning shared, then a same way to feel; So obviously if you are frustrated with people in your surroundings, your thoughts are more and more directed towards the one you feel good with and you begin to think, what is she doing, what do i miss, here i'm misunderstood but i know there is that person out there who seems to feel the way i feel; Unfortunately, for any reasons, you can't be in the vicinity of this one cherished person, so naturally you feel stuck and miss all the time, there's no other, only this one, you can't reason, you can't tell why but your body reacts and grows symptoms, like stomach ache or excessive thinking about the one, it's a complete take over, you can't withdraw, you're addicted, you want more and all around is insipid; At some moment if you're able to cross the path of such a person you feel shaky and ready to burst in tears, you only want to tell how much you love her because the moment is ephemeral and you can't think about something else; Missing is a suffering to me, i know i'm complex and my emotions are like a roller coaster, i know i can be harsh or heartless, but when you meet such a person you're convinced that your feelings are true and the purest of all mankind, and regularly i feel i'm withering just because i can't know where you are and i miss you as my ideal.

Blame me for what i am, A misfit, A twisted thinker!

"Your honesty is unpleasant!", i read the bright red letters, almost jumping at my face; This followed her call, she put me in a situation in which i felt nothing, no emotions, no shivering, no thoughts to share, no opinions required : "Hello! I call to tell you that we came back home quickly and safe!", does someone know how to reply to this sort of plain assertion, can this be pondered, or am i completely misfitted for a majority of social situations, like the intro phrase : "Hello! The weather is nice today!", or i recall my aunt saying when i was a kid : "Oh! You grow up so quickly, you're so tall now!", or when someone says : "My leg hurts today" or my hand, or my back, or my feet,... i'm not a fucking chiropractor and they know it!, what do they want from me, if it's some kind of code, i don't get it at all, if they want me to say or do something, why don't they ask directly the question, and finally when i reply that their phrase as no sense to me, that i don't care that the traffic was fluid because it had no incidence on my life because i was already home, and i understand that she could be happy because her trip back went perfectly ok but for my part i feel nothing, and i see clearly for myself that the weather is nice, no need to comment such a thing, well! in such a lame way, at least if they said how the weather makes them feel, but no they are like robot using a program, a code, to say it again... and i'm not a FUCKING chiropractor, jeez! So, Ok! My honnesty is unpleasant, and i'm an egocentrical prick, and i'm labelled as heartless sometimes, well i'm sorry all of you actors on this great stage that is society life but i can't lie with what i feel, i only know how to function with sincerity, sharing the personal beliefs, the rest lets me perplexed!

the sky illusion

No, no! Don't go on me now, i battled years to obliterate my decline in the sky, i stabbed my heart, accurately pulled in the square blade between my ribs, fumble, fumble, spin, spin, spill the gruel through that hole, break the egg, born again, harden your opinions, this way later any metals will fold on the skin induration; I saw the palpitating stars amongst the nauseous vapors, i reached my arms like a drowned, just to grab silvery locks and a print on the silky moon, i stayed locked in slander eyelashes, i wept on my lonely days, begging them to keep me trapped, i mourned, i mourned, my cheeks peeled, folding on my knees, no one would pray to quit this illusion, i wanted warmth bathing in my own blood, grow stronger, recluse, use and leave, hammer the egg; Hey you! hit me, hit me now, see i feel nothing except the blows of my own fists... help... now that i am my own master, why am i hiting so heavily, soon i'll fall, spreaded on the rocky soil, do the blows will still rush at me, i murmur to myself "pardon me... pardon me to have loved you so much".

burning with passion

not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; Not again...

Spread the love (not the hate)

If i despise them it's because i despise myself, i put the bad thougths i have against myself in their eyes; I think this is true for everybody, nothing is OBJECTIVE (ethics), we put our own perceptions in all the things we ponder, and if i try to imagine how i look from other's view when i'm outside, then all i see is critics, disdain and indifference; This is true for everyone, clearly, to me. The problems people have with others reflect problems they have with themselves.

Abandon

This woman gnaws me, where are you? What are you doing? I'm alone to battle against the devouring spectre of my muse so implicitly haughty. Help me! Help me! The cry of a dying heart; How much i will enjoy to enucleate this organ, wooden symbol of the most valued feeling of human kind. Wrongly i will bleed, this chronic suffering who fills me and leaves me since almost one year, as the undertow each day eroding a bit more of my stony being. Under the effect of a thought, an abstract vision of her, i shudder and crease like a paper thrown in a basket; As the blood she is vital, runing under my skin, abhoring the hours without her. Like a pet whose every women can turn a man, i will tear Hell for her, i will blow the clouds against my will and will instore a new oasis on this earth grained by the bombs.

The lions and the lamb

I'm not made for basketball, i'm not made for any games, any competitions, where the more ferocious ones win, where ambition gives wings and the heart is absent, why do i play whereas i'm dominating my direct opponent, using my hard gained abilities and all the athletics my body can give, while my concerns go for the man i'm playing against and feeling sorry that i score points over his head, evidently with few thoughts of this kind i can't stay aggressive for too long and naturally i abandon the defense to allow the adverse team to feel the high of winning. Let's feel high together by sharing it, to each his turn, too bad for me Sport is a man game, a war game.

The art to appear greater

Don't be fooled by the obsequious enthousiasm diplaying by the manipulators and the unhardened ones, some flatter a work because they don't understand it and some flatter it because it's a tradition, and they'll be dismissed by the unfairly accepted opinion if they really tell what they think; Behind a work, a creation there is a reflection by someone who lived and feel his own particular way, nobody should have the right to say "what this one feels is good but this other is weak", all that comes out of a man in sincerity have a right to exist. I despise the judges and the critics, those who think they know what is art and what is scribbles, they only are another oppressing association of greedy, self centered, conservative individuals, only searching to preserve some indecent privileges. Everyone has the right to materialize his visions of this world, and those creations have as much values as anyone else's, and i say ANYONE. I wish all the retrograde sycophants to stop monopolizing the praises received and given.

Without

"He felt solitude's relief and intolerably lonely. He envied whatever felt nothing : He envied oak sills and the green hill rising and the boulder by the side of the road..."

Donald HALL - "kill the day"

Wanderin'

I could go on indefinitely, watching a prefabricated life through this world-wide bazaar, imagining what it's like to dare and watch someone in his eyes, to jump from a bridge and laugh on the same tone of a group i feel i belong, these hours of video, these lines of contradictory knowledge i unravel and follow, trying to avoid the rusty nails under my feet, and the pouring indecency, i stuffed myself with virtuality, and that leads me nowhere like walking on an endless path of crumbly, musty bricks hoping for an utopian vision which will leave me panting, old and broken with no grips on reality, soon i'll be virtual for everyone too.

This is something i am aware of, if i want to materialize my dreams i have to act now.

First thing i'm sure, j'ai des sentiments pour toi Olia!
Second thing, i want to form a rock band, compose and play!
Third thing i want to learn and share all emotional matters!
Four thing, i want to write and speak languages correctly, english and french at least!
Fifth thing, i'm crazy eh eh!

Waiting in vain

Why am i unable to go out in the day, i'm like a vampire hiding in his crypt, my thirst pinching my stomach, this endless craving for something more, something greater, something who'll give a resilience to my emotions, i'm cold here, and i have enough of staying frozen by the window, my arms stretched open for this world but i can't even retain the drops from the sky spitting at my face, regularly i fail, and the smell of the precipice is more and more attractive, if only i could sleep entire days or months, forget and stop craving for a little while.

The snatching mass grave

What's interesting in Paris, people don't go dirty your boots in that mud, it's smelly and pompous, no one will notice you, they're just dead sardines in their jar, those who don't try to swindle you, will try to kill you, all is expensive and the price of the tickets don't worth the shitty antics in front of whose you'll fall asleep in a minute, the constant buzzing and agitation will give you a headache, in few days you'll be poor and spoiled, the parks are fake and each strand of grass, trees with a better trim than you, obscene and lame statues are a set up for you to buy deleterious greasy food and sugary drinks, without to forget the irrelevant, completely useless plans of the path you go, you'll feel forced to buy, just to rack it in your pocket; Don't be tricked by the greedy adds, the illusionists behind the scenery, Paris is a whore drooling for your fatass dirty Dollars, if it's not your soul!

(a simple text to equalize the score)

Divide and Conquer

Religion, patriotism, race, wealth, class and every other form of arbitrary, separatist, identification thus conceived have served to create a controled population utterly maleable on the hands of a few. Divide and Conquer.

Reign by fear

"You have to have an ennemi image in order to have a sociéty."

Carl Schmitt

Bound of the unknown

Is it too daring to kiss for someone who doesn't know
Will my lips burn of too much softness
Or will i gently press mine and rest like on a cushion
will my eyes shut down in a feverish wait for the tender abyss
Or will i dive restlessly in those foreign discs
will my hands are kind enough to slowly lay down on a waist like a downy bird
Or will it floats around like timid butterflies
will my rough cheeks won't push moments away
Will my legs be faithful to me, will i faint
I'm already lost
Won't someone teach me how to love

(i know there is something wrong with me)

Inhumanity

Rise up your head for me to give you that smile
Nobody sees you
And it seems this job has prematurely aged you
Categorized by this infamous white overall
You keep your chin on your chest
And throw your shoulders low to be non-existent
Are you shameful to wield this inexhaustible broom
This is not you and people are full of chewed all made up ideas
Embed in their heads by the keen hostesses
Indifference is worst than the sadest attack
Nobody sees you but i've seen you

a Wish

I could leave it all to see this city
What's here for me except this cup of sour agony
I hear my inner calling, begging me
It's better to smile under the rain
Than to grieve in this cozy nursery
Once upon a time i thrived in my games
Now my hands create pretty bottles for the swallowing sea
All are dry islets of my own self
How can i belong somewhere
With this spirit of insecurities
Away the livid, the afflicted cover will hide me
I want to forget in its embrace
I keep searching for that shelter
Where my life will have a sense
Where you are, where are you

Critic of Cinema

"The motivation form the majority of directors and scriptwriters isn't to educate people, what they create only exist to entertain the last ones, their films are like the fools of royal courts, they wriggle and resound but we only lose our time at watching them"

Be my writing partner

I couldn't be a novelist, because i can't write fiction, i need to feel to write and all my words are truth in my mind, it's my way of writing!; And that's why when i say "i feel for you!" it means "i love you!", It's a personal language. Before i couldn't believe the word "love" but i know so well the word "feel".
My writings are a reflect of myself, you give it life.

The wrong hour

Six hours twenty minutes in the morning!, what a bad time to be awake, it's the calmer moment of the day, all is asleep, the whole nature, this deep silence is almost creepy, fortunately the rain knocks gently to my window panes, and this sparkly sound lays a balm on my languid thoughts, i feel my eyes are burning in the remains of a difficult sleep and watching at a screen too bright make me crease it in a soft suffering, but i don't know what to do, because at this time of the day there's no alcoves welcoming enough to guide me out of this complete and sublime lethargy;
I'll have to dress then take a bus to run again in a couple of hours plus some dusty minutes, one may think i'm alone this morning with the smart spit of coldness slipping, gliding through the crack of my broken window, but i feel fine and on my swollen face the birth of a smile, it's true, here on my side, words are warmer than the roses from my friends.
Thank you! For you, the one i feel worth living.

The world in the puddle

It was in the yard of an elementary school, the all moaning seven - eight years old kids were cramming under the wide porch, pushed by the adults to hide from the thin rain; And he was crouched, there, apart from the herd, beneath the diffuse, shady light, indolent of the surrounding turmoil, the drops grazing his dark mane and running along his beardless arms, his big honey eyes focused above a newly puddle of fresh water; His innocent fingers were pressing on an ink cartridge, and the kid was floating through this entire new world pumping and spreading in the iridescent curves of the ink and water mixed; Near, enduring the rain too, i saw the beauty in the puddle and i saw the beauty in the kid experiencing the beauty in the puddle; The vision broke in pain and shouts when an advisor grabbed my brother by his ear to lock him away and lecture him about the sense of wasting materials and spoiling the school; At that time, petrified, i hated the insensitive adults, and i tell you now i haven't grow a bit recalling this misadventure as an observer, my heart swells and i'll build a wall of my body to protect the kid from the ones blind to beauty and conditioned against Dreams.

Happy bummers; Merry go round

Today i saw a miracle; They were ten sitting in row on stone steps, singing to the moon, hardly visible through the filth on their hair and teeth, mixing with the night, swinging the rags covering their skin full of scars; Their belongings in plastic bags were tied at their swollen waist, some even had no bags and no shoes, i swear i could hear their incredibly long toe nails tapping the beat on the cold concrete; I was shuffling my legs as it was plain lead along the pavement, feeling the weight of my miserable life, when those waving rocky singing reached me to awake my soul, i stayed still staring at this beautiful show without blinking, on my face the birth of a smile and, as it started to rain the screenplay remained unchanged, at this moment these deprived men were merry and i was mesmerized, and no rain nor wind or even the blast of the town could have changed this flowing sensation; A group exists i thought, and if not a group nonetheless one person for me to feel the happiness i saw tonight, and in my wildest rambling equally i almost perceived a place for someone to love in my soaked and lonely self, then it hits me : Does an homeless can be singing or am i just dreaming?!; I slapped my face on two cheeks, i don't want to know the answer fearing my loneliness could be eternal.

The Homeless Chant :

"How precious
Our teacher's teachings
Time flies swiftly
In this garden of learning
So swiftly
After all these years
We must part
Goodbye"

"Tampopo" (Dandelion)

the peace hides over there

I can't stick to the image i'd like to have,
I have huge ideas,
Ideas of absolute,
And this blog is one proof
My emotional instability comes from here,
What i feel overtop and destroy what i am.

Sketches for a dead end

Amongst the marginal ones there are those one treats as being unlike from an early start and there are those who wanted to be different; The first ones are clearly rejected by others because of a prominent, evident, seeable intrinsic characteristic (that doesn't fit the model of what is normality for the mass), the person builds a low self esteem, a fear of others, of being judged and has the impression she doesn't fit anywhere and can't be accepted; The second ones have similar symptoms, they have a common appearance but they search for their individuality, they search an identity, they want to be unique and acknowledged like this, so they build themselves their feeling of never belonging anywhere, they grow their uneasiness and the multiple symptoms, and end up being stuck and as lost as the first ones; For a same state at the end we have different causes.
I want to add that probably the second ones are people who question their environment and are truly "intellectual" people, and the first ones could be simply unlucky to be born in a society that doesn't accept the differences and the cause of their tormented mind condition isn't forcibly due to an overquestioning like in the second ones. Well here i make generalities, i know exceptions exist, and this is just a poor theory my brain tried to assemble.

Simulation

Why do people care so much about their clothing?!; They match it, chose the colors and the style, it's so obvious that they only want to please others (if possible the persons of the opposite gender), they want to be adored, they want to mix, they want to conform to a certain group, they want to be worshiped; Someone who will just don't give a damn, will simply take the first garment at hand out of his closet, he'll be only practical and chose his clothes depending on the weather, for his own comfort (a raincoat when it rains, shorts when it's sunny), but no! here is a proof people want to interact, they want to draw others around them, they want to be loved, so as soon as they go out they meticulously select and tune in their appearance with the clothes matching the image they want to give to others and the feed-backs they expect! It seems to me it's anti-natural and playing with hypocrisy; To be drastically honest i guess we should live naked, it's a come back to the natural primitive state, well it's obviously impossible but i'd like everyone acknowledge that they are fake and pretenders*, covering what they think others will judge unattractive.

I admit i chose my clothes too, though i try to be as neutral as possible, invisible but faithful to my tastes in "fashion", which stretch toward simplicity.

*(That's an incredibly fitted word here, up to me, pretender is a term that qualifies someone who wants to fit somewhere or get the heart of someone else, and in order to reach his goals this someone has to be fake, to simulate and conform, it's awfully ironic)

If all goes wrong

"I'm fascinated by the idea that one can find sublime moments in life even off set against the world's atrocities, if you think of the victorian era, you know, is very dirty and yet people were very invested in looking good and a certain dandyism, you know, it's probably one of the dirtiest times on earth; we're in a particular space in american culture where we're in a continual form of denial, delusion and atrocity, the worst crime is the crime that we perpetrate on ourselves when we allow ourselves to be sell by lies, media lies, things that aren't true, we're eating foods that are horrible for us and our country is built on sort of one massive lie about what we think we are and yet what we really are is so much more fantastic, then the lie that we believe, and i'm always sort of shocked by that because america does really stand for a level of freedom, and i think it's really difficult "as is just a person in"(?) on this planet, how do you close the door at this point, it's what that strikes me, it's just trying to get that beautiful soft space."

Billy Corgan

overcoming

I don't have the accent, i can try to match it but i know i don't have it for now, and it makes me sound like a clown, but if english-speaking people understand me a little better, then i'll be a clown.

Shadowy

Shadowy is the pit i jump in when i need to abhor myself
show me your undulating face i say
wave your arms above your head
nothing's here to paint your ideas black
your trousers frays on your gashed boots
stick your nails onto your reddened collapsing eyes
the trees bow down, they salute you using their branches as claws to trap you
look at the grins, the grins, the grins, dirty and unhealthy, it's our present, it's all for you
you're pierced, they read you, decypher, dispose of the shadow in your brain
they hunt, you're rare, but they only want the framed perfect lines, not your creepy backwash
hey creep! some get caresses, and some indulge in the beating before those who hate throw the rock at your edgy face
go back to your shelter, save your miserable life for one more day!
shadowy is just the haze i feel good in
it's my Character, the shadow plays me when i'm cornered
it's the words i make a circle with, turn my brow far, let my eyelids picture the good i wish to fall in
shadowy is for me, and if it's the only i can get, i'm already happy to have those moments of unreal slackening.
they put a drill on their temple and walk in beauty, one says it's divine.
well i'm not divine, i'm only human and pathetically imperfect.

"My shadow, my shadow,
change is comming through, my shadow,
my shadow's shedding skin,
and I've been picking my scabs again."

forty six and two - TOOL

Free minds

I saw people die in my dream; I don't know if i should be shocked; It's like a giant party at night in an isolated warehouse, the kind we find on aviation sites; The night has no stars and the place is dimly lighted, the sources are out of my sight, everyone seems drunk and i roamed with Julien, i believe it's the typical immoderate american party, and now we are going out, heading to the moore; we just pass the tiny door that leads in the sheet-metal castle of freedom and nonsense, there are people on the roof too, shouts everywhere, and we turn our eyes at the top when we hear an animated cheerful girl giggling and stumbling above; She thrusts on the parrallel bars, and i think "why there is a diving-board here?", the blonde girl with a spruce red tracksuit does a salto in mid air and bed on the ground; no dusts scatter from this pasty soil, no blood spurts on the frontispiece of the building, the body doesn't make even one bit of a bounce, just a deep thud, repercuting through the earth to our feet and i feel i could puke for one second; We know the inward of this girl is nothing more than a gruel, she's simply dead; At the edge above another girl prepares to jump, no one around seems alarmed, no one cares and the party goes on; is it my vision of humanity?, right after this disturbing event i watched Julien and we both think without a word : "we must get out of here!", as people were steadily agglutinate in this sad place, stamping, howling to the moon and embracing each others thoughtlessly, enjoying their dance on earth but the question is who would be the next to jump.

Bruno Schleinstein

The illegitimate son of a prostitute, Bruno was often beaten as
a child, and spent much of his youth in mental institutions. He is a largely self-taught musician, who, over the years developed considerable skill on the piano, accordion, glockenspiel and handbells. He would play in back gardens performing 18th and 19th century style ballads at the weekends, while sustaining himself financially working as a forklift driver at a car plant. Schleinstein says he transmits his songs, he doesn’t sing them.

"Bruno S. is a man to me" i want to believe that Elliott smith sang this line for this artist. ("color bars")

"Headache"

At noon this day, i took out an industrialized pizza from the microwave and began to consider how to cut it fairly for my brother and i; A crusty oozing layer has formed on the melted cheese and the rectangular bacon was grilled correctly, i noticed all the trimming, cheese and bacon on canned tomato juice sprinkled with oregano, was perfectly lined up, not surprising for this type of supermarket pizzas; so i was here, a sharp one piece of metal knife in my hand, and i thought how to slice it for the good of my ideals; First my mind saw the lines of the trimming and it considered cutting along those lines, like drawing a nice pencil line with a ruler, i thought the mind is so lazy, he likes to follow the rules, he likes to walk on straight lines, then i considered cutting to the perpendicular, that will imply to chop the cheese and bacon in half but the tomato sauce wasn't uniformly spread over the circular dough, so it happened that the better way to be totally fair was to cut it in an imperfect diagonal, what i finally did; Why am i writing this? it shows two things : first, how my mind function, i'm human and firstly i saw the lines, it's easy to follow and easy to notice, then i considered all the possibilities to achieve what i wanted which was to be right, and i found a solution, the motive to act is really important for a human, i put equity as the basis of my move in this example and i acted for the best with how my mind reflect to sort out the problem; Second thing : i want to say, often the best solution isn't in the obvious ways that everybody display, one must learn to challenge the rules of one's brain.

The great mystery

They watch tv; Why do they watch tv?!; Isn't it obvious that all is fake, insipid and empty; What hypnotizes them in those tinseled wriggling images?; Do they lack neurons connections?; Do they lack goals and passions?; Did they give up on knowledge?; Are they drained, blunted, and did they surrender on life?; What brainwashing and vegetative job do they devote to?; Honestly, are people plainly dumb or are they manipulated by the system?; Do the system could be so powerful and coercitive, that it becomes impossible for a human mind to unravel and shut down the decoys??? There's just some questions i can't find an answer for, maybe because i'm not in the system like the way the shepherds would like i am; What do they get from their boring life? Is money the only motivation, a room of one's one and a plate of hardly earned food in such suraboundance that their bodies turn unhealthy of "healthy aliments"?, a dressed slum cramed with, one says , the so precious furnitures... and more... and more... way too much more... that the planet is gnawed like a juicy nut; Am i too disconnected to understand, i know i'm not the fool, but maybe i'm too high in what is qualified by the mob as "useless".

If i'm a useless, lazy, mad, embarrasing parasite then they surely are deprived of logic, reasonning and common sense, what an irony.

Every one of us (instant thinking)

I've got things to do, why am i so stuck in one emotion, i just want to be myself, i've got dreams and i know what to do to reach them, step by step, some knowledge are convictions now, some abilities are acquired, i learn, i grow, and i want to thrive, just say what you have to say and do what you love to do, let the people who can't find a place in your perception behind, burdens are made to be thrown away, roll them up, crumple them in a decent perfect circle, and flip them on your wake, forget and forgive, accept your memories but don't spin those thoughts in your mind, go ahead boy, i'm not a wreck yet, i have visions, i have dreams i want to live, my evolution thread through experiences, don't bend away, don't overload your shoulders, stay true, faithful to your beloved needs, walk forward, be creative but don't force yourself and don't force others, use the system, those who have their place in you will show up soon, others will just buzz around, trying to sting you or cut pieces of your wit, others will only display you their heels as they turn away to follow a path you don't belong, don't let your fears, your insecurities, your doubts bringing you down, don't let others making you think that you don't deserve what you love, go for it boy, chin up and proud eyes, straight as the horizon, the connivance between your mind and fingers should haul you toward the quietude you longed for. Hope isn't a gift, hope is in every one of us.

I don't care what you think, i love you my dreams.

(mayonnaise is a perfect title to go with that writing, to go with my mood, my steady mood, i feel i'm flying and see all my goals clear, i let those who don't want to hold my hand behind, goodbye world, me and my loneliness have greater sky to float on)

How

I have to love you now,
because later i'll be dead,
dead in oblivion,
dead in shriveling,
dead in bones...

what it's like to feel too much

"He is jealous of the moon because you look at it,
and jealous of the sun because it warms you,
he touches you even when he doesn't touch
he speaks to you even when he doesn't speak
he loves you even when he doesn't love you ... "

i believe (what a desperate boy i am)

How can someone be so beautiful, if only i could be her shadow or plainly the shadow of her pen, i could admire the thin and smooth curves of her fingers; i begin to believe the blue light, the one that strikes directly to my heart, the one that encompasses my being with the exhilarating perfection of an ice statue, the one that completes all my visions with the essential magnificence of a soulful genius, i'm sure now this blue light that obsseses me in my higher thoughts emanates from her milky skin, and i'm on my knees before the sun of her creativeness; how can someone be so pure, i'm simply convinced and changed for ever, that feeling who takes over your perceptions and senses is true and i can be stricken down by this grace;

(Our mind plays with us, we only can be sure of what we love, and it only belongs to us, the others are only there to share our passions to reach the highest of all emotions, but if you're alone with your love in the alcove of immortality, you'll remember it and revive it untill the end, and those who will flee with part of your soul could never enucleate your precious beloved emotion)

Gravitation (from lost flesh to eternal materialization)

"Otis" vibrated in the room like a chant from another galaxy,this feverish but passionate shout painted more than visions of space, a striking muse with a lighted face, her almond eyes smiling between the curtains of her black straight hair; the dust like oppresing stars keep the body in stillness, in the dark beneath an inclined roof, and the complaint of the song grow in intensity, the mind is absent, nothing sleeps nearby, the matter in reality doesn't exist anymore, here rises the iridescent veil of infinity; the touch of sound allows to drift in his own brain showing a radiant beatitude, planets seemingly on the palms of each hands and this caressing voice as a cradle; time slows down and stops, a created unity floats to wrap the pain, numbs the living moment to feel as dispersed rays with millions eyes, all crystallized around sheer beauty, the universal beauty of the muse.

Life through a glass

It's bright outside, i hear the purring from the city, if it was not for the cold breeze slipping through the window i'm watching out, we could mistake this as a summer day; from my height i see the students walking in packs, prancing and teasing, speaking loud to make the world believe they are not affraid, other persons stride to their goals, and i feel i'm the one eternally motionless before my window; a day like this, nature is in spurt, aboundant emerald foliage with battling birds in it, battling... no, smirking birds; this calm and peacefulness under this vast clear sky don't make me feel lighter, what influences me is my own imagination, i know i'm untied, but those possibilities are drifting far, i'm like an eagle without wings, i can't see a haven here to lay my head and give vent to my thoughts, where am i heading, why am i not on tracks, why i cannot be satisfied of the offering mob; i have no chains and yet i feel heavily boxed; there is this silhouette and no one can pull me back from this window.
I never felt this empty before.

Think in the language you write or read

To learn a foreign language implies to learn a new way to think; i wouldn't do translations to earn some money, because, unless, one perfectly masters the right way of thinking for every language he tries to translate, the outcome only will be a formless pastiche; the depth, the meaning, the precise emotion, all will be debased by codes who can't attach the words; so yes, with an experimented translator, we can have something coherent but for me the very inspiration of the writer thinking in his own language, or the one he would have learned, is derided by pitiful attempts of retranscriptions; the ideal is to think in the language we want to write, or read (because for me all this is equally true for the reading), it's the same as juggling with deux or more thinking systems with its codes, its locutions and its ways to catch the world around.

I want to integrate this aptitude, i need to learn to change my point of view more naturally, i want to learn, i have a motivation!

The certitude of a craving

My steps get longer, i'm attracted by this impression, a vision comes out my rush, i sweat under the lighted bricks of this vivid city, i'm eager to quit the heavy company of the fake envelops with their smooth skin, their straight hair and straight clothes who are like straight jackets to me, i don't belong here but my mind transport me in this tender nest, all in a dim grey light and this eerie atmosphere which makes me think of a bowl of blueberries; two writings connected, i feel comfortable, i can lie in any corner, mute and i'm feeling free to be, this bubble accepts me, here what's look soft is soft and fresh, my sight can linger on this alabaster skin, here what's make you feel small is infinite but keeps you warm in his embrace, here what's look at you transcend you and turns you into an immortal statue of peacefulness, you're circling, you can't imagine such perfection allowed you to walk by his side on a greater sky, you forget what has been, what's clear and pure is guiding you, you reached this state where your being isn't a burden anymore, all is free, all is one, you can close your eyes even on the harder soil, you want to share each atoms of yourself and each crossroads of your reasoning, this moment must last forever, you'll never leave this bleuish room, you crave to belong here, you pray the only one to bring you bliss and keep you close, all is flowing and natural, this is the ultimate need you touched, but this is just an hallucination of a craving mind. I'll believe in it even if my heart petrifies, my love will keep it beating.

Getaway

"stay away"
"stay in your cage"
"they don't like you"
"they can't love you"
"you're shivering"
"you're watching low"
"all is different"
"all is hostile"
"no salvation"
"no coming back"
"you can try to have talent"
"you can try to polish your image"
"you've lost one half"
"they laugh at you"
"you're too dumb and kind"
"leave your skin"
"cease to think"
"no one wants you"
"you skip opportunities"
"you're not worthy enough"
"you are missing fangs"
"break your bones"
"sweep your daydreaming"
"run to your end"
"forget yourself"
"you're a useless bum"
"the cloud above your head frigthens people"
"you'll never get what you want"
"you have nothing to give"
"you are hideous"
"obliterate yourself"
"drown your mind in noises"
"how can you live like that"
"don't search"
"hope is dead"
"you're sick"
"...and abnormal"
"kill yourself"
"erase all you know"
"there's no point"
"there is no one"
"you'll never have the guts"
...

i know what it's like to be high, each time i go out i suffer, i can cope till the end, but i don't want to lose time, i'm fine, i always lived on the edge, i kept my wings safe but i feel the burning breath of what will be my exit. i love you world.

Not too long now

I was arrived to this edge where my hope as my former curly hair has melted in the course of the wearing time; In the vicinity of the pace i was caught on, people i would knew, people i would love were more and more part of a blurry painting, like when, as a kid, i was watching with my vibrant and feverish eyes the multicolored nature out of a train window; i remember those moments of neat existence without the conscioussness of beauty nor bad; what did i got from my craziness? i can seat straight, i can imagine my multiple losses, i left the blazing pages of my misunderstanding faded away with this hope, i become invisible, my shoulders don't bear anymore the pedestal of vigor, i crumble like a sand castle blown by the gust of their indifference; if before i had a chance and with words i could conquer, i'm now a pathetic shadow of the desperate old fool i will become soon; hope flees in the hourglass of time but i know i consume it more quickly as soon as i see myself, in any way; i can stand still and chase the others with my glances, i can smile all the wrinkles of my face, when hope is gone mankind sees the void in you, you're just a shriveled fruit; i don't know the spell to shine anew, to discover again the fiery child i was, i don't have the formula to enchant water and rejuvenate my filthy thoughts; if all i can do is feel in vain and watch my limbs collapse to the ground in despair, if i can love a dream, but i can't love my hope, and my hope is thin, at last, all will disapear completely when i'll fall from the edge.

Fakt (ref. Harvie Krumpet)

The life is as short as a cigarette
Lighted in an ashtray
The wind stirs up and rages
Turns red the burned tobacco
A blue smoke dances like a snake
It's the so expected rise
Nobody guesses the slope
The half is already gone
A last dream then the dawn
...
You are dead!

(very old stuff)

Something is wrong...

Something is wrong, what's my lack, was it my mood, was it the look, the complexion, the pace, some people see me and ask me why my eyes are so sad, they ask for a service, they want to take and run away, i see their insecurities, they bend away and sway like reeds in the wind, i can't give them what they ask for, i can't give them the material but to each words gliding to me, i make a crack in my living, i'm ready to pull out my bones to clean their teeth, my mind gallops to fetch, what do i want, what do i'm waiting for, are you like me, do i search to share in the worst situations, am i wrong to think i want to speak, i want to know people but they disappoint me because i'm otherwise, they seem fine, pretty wrapping with black swans in the curves of their face, with their cajoling smiles and the boys have stars on their list, on the rush to seduce, all are beautiful people, and i'm weak, i'm not worthy enough, but things are crooked, people hide their claws, display a neat façade, but no one is innocent, why my emotions burn when someone pierce my bubble, why do i feel i'm giving myself away, something is wrong, they don't care for me, i need to give myself to someone who cares, i want to... , i want to think i'm able to spread cuteness and happiness, i'm not cold anymore, i know why i bury myself in my lair, because i melt for all the tricks, i'm alone and i'm an easy target, people don't care so why do i care, i want to believe i know where wander my salvation.
I don't want to be me.

Some banalities too often forgotten

Our communications depend greatly of our mood which depends greatly on our state of fatigue and the energy we have, on a day we have peaks and pits like the swell, we can share the better communications during those peaks, we have imagination and ardour, the informations in the brain flow faster and the access to memory is optimum, i think those apogees occur mainly a while after eating and after resting the time the body adapt itself to the new components, food and sleep, then the pits are mainly before eating and evidently before resting.
Everyone can have a different rhythm though people who work should have the same; for my part i'm delayed and if i don't do a nap the afternoon i can feel tired, my peaks those days are mainly in the evening and at the begining of the night where i have energy and often the desir to move, i feel generally low in the middle of the day. The ideal moment for sharing can be when two persons are in peaks though humans are adaptable eh eh, we don't have to seek for perfect moments like a character of a book by jean paul Sartre : "la nausée", or we could end never sharing and being completely frustrated, we must know if we want to share, if we have enough energy to adapt, we chose with whom we want to speak, no pressure just probing oneself and act as we want, respectfully.

(Olia last time we spoke i was in a pit and i used my reserve of energy to be aware and stay connected with you, i noticed clearly the difference in the speed of my thoughts comparing to this evening, i chose to stay with you and i don't regret it, the only hitch is that i couldn't share with you all my passion though i think we had a very good talk way above all i know usually, but we could do better, remember you can knock at my door anytime, i'll do everything i can for you, willingly, with avoiding to be a burden; i prefer reassure you with my entire thoughts because i don't want you to culpabilize, i know you're kind and want the well being of others, but eh you can think about yourself, people should watch on them, do what you want.)

Development on the search for absolute self

I think ultimately one can really be himself only when one is alone, isolated, out of sight from other human beings, the quest for oneself can only be done through solitude and immediately if we find ourself amongst our fellows, if we notice them, then our behaviors, our thoughts are influenced, and we can't be ourselves; we can't be entirely self-centered to deny the existence of others around us, it's impossible, and we naturally need others that's why they forcibly have an impact on us, even the slightest, it can't be otherwise ; we should be blind, we should lose all our senses, because a simple glance crossed and noticed in the street changes our behaviors and automatically instils thoughts in our brain; we have a natural need of others to define us, to reassure us, because the emotions that we can feel are a pleasure and we are subjugate to it, I think the best we can do is to find people who will influence our behaviors and our thoughts so that we feel good emotions, that way even if we are not really ourselves in its pure form, at least we feel pleasure to live and keep close to the world. It's an alchemy.

(to go farther, the simple fact to think about someone changes our behaviors and our thoughts evidently)

Lost in a station (maybe that's better)

Here i am on this land, standing still, my legs are numbed, everything around scared me, i can't make a step, i'm oververflowed with informations and the fear don't allow me to make any move, like if i was in a mines field; this temple for travelers buzzes like a hive, and the flesh puppets stride straight following the rails to their destination; i'm unoticed though being the only one turned into a statue, i don't know where to look, i don't want to afflict anyone, i don't want to have an impact on their lives and i don't want them to spoil my day as i know one glance can create a cyclone in me; i'm here for one person and as i turn my head timidly, my eyes stumble on hers, we're now two standing still in the blurry agitation, at a short distance and i'm hardly aware that the ruckus becomes a wadded melody to my ears, my senses are shutting down one by one, i feel my legs will no longer support me and i could faint in this dream with a serene smile on my face, relieved, saved!

I know my hands are becoming moist, i need to hide them under the strap of my bag, it needs to be busy, nervously sliping along my arms, i prevent them to spoil anything they could graze; my eyes are sliping too, i don't want to unpolitely staring at her so my glances sweep from side to side, lifting a bit to admire her hands, her pale and delicate hands are bond together and seems to shudder in eagerness, i want to believe she's looking at me with the same giant teary eyes i have now, i pray for her to not rush and pass next to me to hug some other boy in the station as i bitterly saw it many times in movies and the artificial laughs will be for me to bury in; i want to believe i'll be fine and those hands will soothe me from myself even if mine will stay stiff and cold for awhile; i think i can't watch i don't want to shatter the dream.

I'll say "take me far", this building of metal beams finely polished, and artistically painted is too crowded, i feel i'm in the nest of ants and i want to be a free butterfly living for one day full before giving back my core to the earth, i'm not made to walk in line, wandering tunnels through dark days of labor, let's escape from this mound of filth, "take me far", i trust you, be my guide, please don't break the leash and make me feel real for a day, we're not busy ants, we're free passing butterflies.

I've learned, i know how to consider human nature, to everyone his choices, to everyone his thoughts, his ideas, his perception, his world, no one can disapoint me by saying his truth even if i have a different one; in a situation like this the answer will be "yes" or "no", if i have to be rejected i'll walk away like a robot all my senses destroyed, i'll swim back to my home, i'll exhaust myself to the bones in order to rest afterwards util the end of my living days, and i'll wish her to be truly happy because she sleeps in my heart.

I'm not made to be one

One day i'll be sitting on the bank ready to dive, bare feet covered in vegetal powder, pierced by the wires from the trees, i'll be watching the wide basin of water glimmering the sky, i don't wish for the weather to be frozen in a pathetic blue, i want it free, angry or sad, if the drops want to whip my face i'll be there, if the sun wants to burn my skin i'll bring an umbrella, my weather will be free and i'll let my mind protect me, legs stretched, the palms of my hands fixed to the ground, tense, i'll wait for the push to clean my wounds and find peace in the carresing silk of the water, i'll swarm, i'll spin, i'll twirl like a torpedo, i always thought swiming was close to flying, i'm a fool i need to cool my brain; one day i'll be sitting anywhere, not watching, lost in the brambles weaved by the impulses in my mind, one day a finger will lay down on my wrinkled hand and i'll cease to feed the doubts, i'll leave my body to drown in the eyes of my murderer, this will be the happiest moment of my life.

(my familiar ressources, i don't know how to get out of the spiral, take my hand and pull me out, is there a speck of hope in this aged vision)

Pleasure and Pain

(hmm i see that as a formal way of learning to write coming from a handbook, i'm not good at following rules you know but i did begin to write something on the bus this morning; if i had followed my envy i would have written all in one long text; here's one vision, i had many, we could once chose and write on a similar theme?!.)

1 and 2. The wagon is slowly pulled back on the gigantic slope, we hear the loud sound of the wheel cogs hammering one each other like the advent of an execution. My friend spent half of his life on a wheeling chair and here he is again doing the scarest ride of the park, sitting next to him i see his hands blending with the padded bar, our lean and unique savior, the thread of each existence on this caterpillar, and every brain can picture the fall and the thud of a skull opening out on the concrete tiles spurting pulp out of his peel.
I feel excited, my entire body shivers, that's certainly a situation who puts the imagination at work, my guts want to evaporate, i sense them liquefied in my belly, i've decided to make the balance with the frightened sweat floating around our infernal apparatus. Despite my friend being from the Carribean, i can see his veined hands turning grey by the pressure of his grip, his nails on the verge to pop out and both like panting hearts striped with swollen lines. I smile all i can, i want to curse the world lungs aloud, that's the last ride, i rub my hands together, i'm tied to the seat but i feel i can't stay still, i wave and i want to jump, i watch right and left, the fields and forests afar and the short bemused people beneath, i drink the landscape from this height and i can't wait to fly because strangely i feel i'm gonna escape, escape to fly away, safe from the crushing others.

3. (coming soon... perhaps...) three doesn't inspire me at all, you imagine now why i had poor grades at school, i have a tendency to skip what doesn't please me.

4. (coming soon... or never)

A Proof

The feelings we may have for someone are lost, useless and painful when they lead to no sharings; Sharing informations makes them useful but not less painful because feeling for someone means that one wants the person at his side, a sensual sharing can provide pleasure, but won't provide matter for a lasting relationship; The strongest feelings I can feel start with an intellectual sharing then it is transcended and lets me see the beauty in everything; But, how to tell someone what one feels, our feelings are so versatiles, people use the simple word "love", now debased, their emotions are trapped in a stereotype that means nothing anymore, but refusing to limit my feelings and seeing them greater, even infinite, I have no way to express them, they are here, they overwhelm me, but nobody can tell, because our feelings only belong to ourself and if I refuse the means commonly used to reveal them then they will remain for my own appreciation and will continue to devour me from inside; These unexpressed emotions towards other human beings are not, in my case, immured by prosaic words, but girded in my own self, serenely destroying me as I grow older; If only I could have a revelation that would bring me proof that my feelings would not be used against me through mockery or intended to nothingness, then yes, i'll dare and i'll say what will be my profound and pure truth: I love you ...

Match of Moods

Depending on the people with whom I am, I can be either exuberant and talkative or then totally retiring, not saying a word, simply judging the situation and inwardly reasoning; I believe that this second state is due to my inability to simulate my emotions and who I am, if I can't enter the game so I prefer to put me back, almost disappear and be an observer; On the other hand if I am with the right person, the one who makes me feel completely safe and has a compatible character with mine then is created an incredible chemistry, I become voluble and prolix, I flutter and play with things around me without noticing the glares from others, a person who joins my temper give me an indestructible confidence and I share without restraint; With such a person I feel that our moods match, our emotions are exalted and glorified, and then we can share true moments of pure happiness.

Change and Adapt

One can only speaks of what he knows, i'm not here to tell stories, the only thing a human can really know is himself (because all he sees is an interpretation of his mind, and all humans interpret a same thing a unique way), and i think i'm losing it, i lose hope, i lose the flame! That's an old thinking, i have to be determined, i have to fight for what i want, i have to say, i have to climb on ladders, i have to voice it and face the opposition, "Hello world! i'm not perfect, but i have things to give for those who know how to hear me." Nature is complex, we are made of an infinity of caracteristics, and we can, along the way, lose or gain pieces, and we change path in an instant, we change the views of us, we change the way people around us see us, and there is no good path, we just have to appreciate what we can have, we can build abilities to reach what we want, and some other things we have no control on, we have to learn to accept it, change views, change path, and enjoy the new possibilities (example : when aging we please to different persons); we are drawn to metamorphisis and adaptation, each one is painful but we have the power to shift our points of view, we can see outside the spiral, and we can adapt to our own; those changing are fast, though brutal, that's why we have to keep a strong mind, and stay aware that changing path is not good or bad, it's only different and the pleasure that we can take lay on our sole mindset.

I feel i change constantly, i feel i doubt, but if i won't try to stretch my hand towards the glow that soothe my mind, i will be tormented for ever, i have to try and adapt, nothing is a success, nothing is a fail, all is experience and knowledge, we have to know what we need, crave for it, and respectfully walk to it, and be sure that a change of path isn't an abyss to wither in, by a twist of the reason we'll find new marvelous things to experience; some will discard me, some will accept then discard me and some will accept me, the time is short, why living in fear, hey guy! just enjoy the wonders on each new paths, change and adapt and live.

Third Eye

When he walks the path of the sun's grave, his feet dragging on the dust, like if he wears lead boots, we can see the marks of his endless journey in wrapping malice; All around the hearts are dry and the tongues are sharp as thorns, everybody's laughing, filling the air with fetid warmth, they wave their hands and point at their jackets, they have a tasteless rainbow smile and use it to pollard their way through success, cutting flesh and muscles... and dreams; The walker only see one spot in the fade distance, he finds his will in his inner knowledge, the road is long and his body is slowy leaking on the ground but he knows that at the end the deliverance will be unraveled by the steady opening of his third eye.

I fled Happiness

I fled happiness... twice or more... i had opportunities to encounter beautiful minds, but i run away from my shadow in their eyes, i went to locations without thinking, i numbed my thoughts and i failed; there was persons who saw me in this fog of unconsciousness, they dared to make a step and pulled my scary mask, i glanced to their illuminating proposal of redemption, then my brain planned perfection, i saw angels falling from the sky, i saw life and his curves, i saw a choice to be different, a choice to act until hiding; they were arms wide open, these smart unselfish gems; and me, like a fool, a lost soul, i pictured a moth scorching his wings on a fire; i had chances to live and to be different, i had chances to be saved from myself and my boring existence... but i fled... these colored eyes will haunt me forever as the reflect of my damnation. ......I fear i'm gonna do the same mistake again..... ....... and again.....

I'm sure of it now.... ..... i want to see you.

Black caramel fragments pinch of salt

Here's something on me i had a revelation this night; I will never believe that the chocolate could have a so neat effect on my metabolism, some minutes after ingestion of an half of a chocolate bar, i felt the need the spend energy quickly and drastically, i felt empowered, i needed to run and jump like a baby goat;
I wonder if chocolate acts as much on everyone, maybe it's depending on the morphology and the physiology; The black is the one who condenses the most energy, i should eat dark chocolate each time i need to go out of my cage for a social interaction... or maybe not, i'll become obese.

"I" is someone else

CORRECT

UGLY

It stings as he lays down on his square of purple cloth; His occiput rest like on a stone and send flashes for distraction;
Soon his mind begins to sail, and as he travels through tortuous dilemmas his body get warmer compeling him to move, denuding his meager protection and occupying the space; Each evening his sensitivity touches the fire of torments, his flesh equally pespires and convulses; It requires a dive in the icy air of the nigth to recompose him in a whole, formless and crossed by spasms; The head between the elbows, the brow on the cold metal, he'll recover the sight, and will wait tomorrow to catch a pretending rest; It lacks a magnet to keep the pieces together, unless that comes all at once the hope for a bony hand.

There is only proofs of the dissolubility of each one of us, we are all beautiful and ugly at the same time in a same entity, we are all different at each second and we have no control on that, being aware of this is one thing, tolerate it is way more difficult.

City under the rain (today was a hot sunny day)

I want the world to give away, i want the rats to drown, i want them in their boxes, full of fear, melted faces in the intermittent crude light of the strong bolts hiting the floor.
I am hypnotized, standing like a divinity above the roofs, streams of pure water slipping along my bare feet. For once in my life my chin is up and my eyes are bright, the angry sky pours a curtain of needles, the streets are washed of these filthy humans, and i delight the dance of the swirling dust. My veins are bitter, this fresh ablution coating my entangled body rises up my spirit, i'm beyond and i'm different, nature gives me the peace i bruised my fist for, my blood will be drained and it's all i wanted, sweet rain, sweet lover, i prayed for you through endless nights, here it comes!
The junk of the city is a chaos of black and grey, and twinkling glimmers, that paints the perfect wish of an anarchist. The trembling windows, the molested leaves, the slamming doors, the damp creatures, the racing clouds, the rusty crumbling happiness imitation... , the love... , my love... gnawing my inner fibres, all is going in the plug of oblivion, and i'm here to watch the end comming while the crawling ones will drink their shame till they vanish.
Only pretty shapes will stay scatered on the sidewalks. It's my luck... i learned to swim!

A bad communication! Up to me.

A woman speaks to a man; she is working to assemble a sandwich, the man is sitting in an armchair in the living room; they can hear and speak through the wide opening between the two rooms; the conversation becomes more honest as they discover one each other, all seems well between them but they just met a few time ago; the woman begins a long monologue
about what she feels, she is always busy and speaks without looking at the man directly;
as she has finished, she approaches with a plate of food always confessing with sincerity and gentleness; at the final and clumsy moment, as she stops in front of the man, a word get stuck in her throat, she finds that he is asleep; she puts the plate down, then kneels, gazing at him lovingly while caressing his shoulder ....

How can she feels liking at a time like that?!

I don't understand this scene! And if i was the girl I would feel angry and deceived; revealing what's on my heart to someone ... and this one falls asleep! What a lack of communication! This kind of situation gets on my nerves, why the man didn't say he was tired, he needed to rest and so the discussion could have been resumed with full attention later.
No, instead he prefers to play the hypocritical in order to not appear this or that in front of this pretty girl and ultimately he fells asleep like a worm, and she accepts it!! nonsense!! In this state i see the man as a jerk and the girl as an ingénue.
For me it's a failure to communicate, and I don't understand that kind of situations, I don't tolerate them!

What's worst is that these types of scene are plethora in films and people now think it's normal! Sorry but to me it isn't!